CSI Frozen
by Kellygrishin
Summary: Gil Grissom & Sara Sidle are working a scene together. The victim was found in the master bedroom stuffed under the bed, multiple stab wounds in his chest. Alone in a room together for over 3 hours, anything could happen. Things could heat up, or freeze.


CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

**Frozen**

Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle had been working the scene for three hours and still had not recovered the murder weapon. The victim had been savagely stabbed multiple times then stuffed under the bed in the master bedroom. His blood pooled on the hardwood floor, and the rest of the room had been trashed.

Sara stood up from her crouched position, turned off her flashlight and stretched. Finger printing the room was turning out to be a tedious and pointless task. The killer must have been wearing gloves. She glanced over at Grissom and saw that he was walking towards the closet, his flashlight trained on the doorknob. She made her way over to him and saw what had caught his attention. There was a small smudge of blood on the side of the doorknob.

"The killer might have stashed something in here," Sara said as she flashed a couple photos then took a swab of the blood.

"Like our murder weapon," Grissom said, studying the doorframe carefully. When he had finished examining the outside of the door, it was time to go in.

"Stand back," he warned Sara. She did so, and then in one swift motion, Grissom swung the door open.

Sara gasped and jumped back as the whole contents of the closet came toppling down on Grissom. He was knocked to the floor and lost in a pile of clothes, boxes, bags, hangers, and a lot of junk. When the avalanche subsided, Grissom was sitting there with his glasses skewed, a pair of lacy pink ladies underwear on his shoulder, and a bloody kitchen knife in his hand.

"How did the killer even get this in there?" Grissom said in an exasperated tone.

Sara stifled a laugh and then offered him her hand. He grinned up at her boyishly, then took her hand and struggled to his feet. He adjusted his glasses as Sara removed the frilly item from his shoulder and smirked as she held it up.

"Looks like our vic had a girlfriend," Sara said as she bagged the evidence.

"Either that or very strange undergarment preferences," Grissom said as his eyes went over the other items in the pile.

Sara laughed, then her breath caught in her throat. A trail of crimson liquid was running down the right side of Grissom's face from an ugly gash above his temple.

Grissom looked up at her. "What's wrong?"

"Gil! You're bleeding," said Sara, stuttering slightly.

Grissom gingerly touched his fingers to his temple. The cut was deep. It was a large amount of blood, warm and velvet-like between his fingers. He examined the knife and saw that most of the blood on it was probably his own, fresh and dripping down the handle. It must have grazed the side of his head when it had fallen from the top shelf of the closet. Now the murder weapon was compromised, but there was still a chance.

Careful not to disturb the pile, Grissom stepped just inside of the spacious closet and peered onto the top shelf, shining his flashlight on the dusty surface. He smiled to himself when he saw blood where the knife must have been placed. He photographed it, took a swab of it, stepped back over the pile and was about to bag the evidence when Sara stopped him. Using a warm cloth, she began to wipe the blood from his face.

"Sara, I'm fine," he said as he tried to squirm free.

"Hold still," she said, putting a steadying hand on his left cheek.

Grissom heaved a sigh, rolled his eyes, and did as he was told. Still holding the evidence up in one hand, he watched Sara's face as she worked. She was concentrated. It was the same concentration she had when working a scene.

When she came to the gash with the cloth, she bit her lip and dabbed at it tenderly, afraid she was hurting him. She became acutely aware that he was watching her, and that her hand was on his face. The motion of her hand slowed, then stopped all together and she lowered the blood soaked cloth. She tried to avoid his eyes, but then her willpower crumbled. When her eyes met his, she felt like she couldn't breath. He wasn't saying anything. He wasn't even pulling away. But Sara had to. What else was she supposed to do? 'Come _on_ Sara!' she told herself. 'Take your goddamn hand off his face!' Slowly, her hand trailed down his face, brushed over his lips, then came to rest at her side, trembling slightly.

Then things began to happen. The air suddenly seemed to chill and the CSI's heard creaking coming from somewhere downstairs. There was somebody else in the house! They heard unfamiliar voices, and then the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Sara turned panicked eyes towards Grissom, who was wishing he had brought his gun along. Then the door flew open.

At first, the two Hispanic men just stood there in the doorway, clearly surprised to find that they weren't alone in the place. Then the smaller of the two pulled out his .45 and pointed it at Sara. Grissom instinctively went to stand in front of her.

"Move and she's dead!" yelled the man.

Grissom froze in mid step.

Sara couldn't believe what was happening. They had secured the house! But maybe there was a new recruit who had overlooked something. Sara noticed that both men were wearing leather gloves. Were these the killers, returning to the scene of the crime?

The second man came over to join the first, who whispered something to him. He nodded, walked over to the dead body, then picked it up and slung it over his shoulder. He then headed out of the room and down the stairs.

The remaining man approached Sara, his gun still level with her head. He took her chin in his callused hand and looked her over, as if inspecting a horse prior to purchase.

"Don't touch her!" Grissom said with clenched fists.

The Hispanic laughed and roughly unhanded her. "You know, it's very unwise to care so much for a coworker. One looses their logical judgement. One ends up locked in the back of a freezer truck praying to God that someone will pay the $500,000 ransom."

"You do this and nothing will stand between you and Death Row," Grissom said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Another word from you and I blow her head off!" yelled the Hispanic, digging the gun's nozzle into the side of Sara's head.

Grissom had hit a nerve, it seemed. He fell silent, but did not take his penetrating gaze off of the Hispanic. If he could just get that .45 out of the Hispanic's hands, he could turn the situation around.

But just as a plan was forming in Grissom's mind, the second Hispanic returned carrying an AK-47. He had a look of satisfaction on his face.

"The truck's ready for them," he said.

"Already?" asked his partner

"They're no good to us if they're frozen to death."

"What about Collins?"

"What about him? His body's worth nothing compared to a couple of CSI's. We'll dump him on the way back."

The Hispanic with the .45 nodded, but then his brow furrowed. "What if them CSI's don't want their guys back?"

"Then we'll have two more bodies to dump," said the one with the AK-47, flashing a smile at Sara.

"Okay. Grab the evidence kits, and the knife," said the other, glancing in the direction of the open closet. "We'll have to dispose of them too."

Once that was done, he came over to Grissom and pressed his AK-47 into his back, and the four of them headed out of the room and down the stairs.

Grissom stole a glance at Sara. She sensed his gaze and looked over at him. Grissom motioned to the Hispanics with his eyes and Sara nodded once, realizing what he had in mind.

They came to the entrance hall and proceeded through a side door that led into the garage. Visible in the dim light was a white freezer truck.

So the killers were here all along, thought Grissom, waiting for silence before they went to steal the body and destroy the evidence. Perhaps they were planning to force the family to pay a ransom in return for the body.

They made their way around to the back of the truck and when the larger Hispanic reached forward to open the door, Grissom tackled him and almost yelled as pain shot through his shoulder. Then he grabbed the Hispanic's gun arm and twisted it behind his back until he dropped the AK-47.

Meanwhile Sara was struggling with the smaller Hispanic. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked. She yelped, whirled around, and kneed him in the groin. He groaned and doubled over. Then Sara made the mistake of turning around to see if Grissom was alright.

In that moment everything seemed to slow down for Grissom. He turned to see the Hispanic behind Sara recover from the blow, and turn his rageful eyes upon her.

"Sara!" he yelled as he tried to get to her in time.

But then the Hispanic raised his .45 and beat her over the head with it. She collapsed to the ground and lay still.

"Don't move!" yelled the furious Hispanic, pointing his .45 at Grissom.

Grissom stopped and stood helpless, caught between a .45 and an AK-47, for the other Hispanic had recovered and was just as angry as the first.


End file.
